Zero
by Little Miss Slytherclaw
Summary: Keith, the second in command of Voltron (a well known group of pirates) has been captured by the Galra on accounts of armed robbery. He has a plan to get himself out of trouble, knowing that most stuffy royals were the same, but will it change things when he finds that it's the young Prince Lotor on the throne and not Emperor Zarkon?


**I'm back with more Voltron!**

**I drew space pirate, Altean Keith, then I decided I needed to fic it. So.. here we are!**

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**This fulfills some Hogwarts stuff (where I'm a Slytherin), with some prompt usage... Here they are.**

**April Auction: (song) Zero by Imagine Dragons. It is worth 55 coins**

**Insane House #693: (restriction) start and end the story with the same word**

**Hogwarts 260 #91: young**

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**Warnings: There's a bit of violence, and the hints at bad backstory... nothing too like... visual though**

**Word Count (excluding an): 2765**

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**Zero**

Zero.

The number of days left until his trial.

Not that Keith was really worried—they would drag him to the throne room, his hands cuffed and hair untied after spending nearly a movement in that cell, before asking all dramatically if he had anything to say for himself.

He would then proceed to break down with a sob story about how he wanted to change his ways, how there was a girl back on Altea that he just needed to see, or some ruggle like that, and he'd be free faster than the Galrans could say wizblattle.

This really wasn't his first time to be lined up on the execution block. Sure, it was his first on Diabazaal, but he found that most of the peaceful planets were the same.

Maybe, after he got out of it this time, he would take a break from his pirating ways. He desperately needed a break, and that would help him find _some_ balance in the middle of all of this chaos..

The doors of his confinement room slid open, revealing a stoick guard. All of the Galrans seemed to be some shade of purple, and this guy was no exception. He was broad-shouldered, strong-jawed, and expressionless. He held a blaster in both of his hands.

"Out with you," the guard barked, and Keith sighed, pushing himself off of the wall he had been leaning against. All of the guards, no matter where he goes, bark. Can't they speak with a kind voice? Prisoners are people too!

Keith kept his mouth shut as he stepped out of the cell, walking past the guard, his eyes already scanning his surroundings. It would be suicide to try and run off now, with none of his supplies and a blaster to his back, but it didn't hurt to just be aware of where he was.

Twenty-seven deca-phoebs old, and he was still trying to escape.

He had been trying to find ways out—of the room, the house, the planet, the star system—his entire life. Maybe he would genuinely give up pirating after this.

Maybe.

It didn't take them long to get to the throne room, and it wasn't a boring trip either. Galran and Altean tech lined the walls, keeping the entire base stabilized. It was brilliant—any tech junky's dream. A single piece from any of the hallways they walked through could feed Keith for at least a movement, maybe even two.

The throne room itself was even grander. It was gorgeous, decorated in mostly purple and varying levels of comfort. High stained windows let in a pinkish light, and the floor was covered in a thick, nearly black rug. It was oddly cosy, for the Galra.

They may be an inherently peaceful people, but the Galra way was still one of discipline. Cozy wasn't really in their dictionary.

At the front of the room sat two chairs, equal in size and shape. On the right hand chair sat Queen Honerva, draped in an almost delicate, light purple gown. To her left sat the young Prince Lotor. Standing at his side was Emperor Zarkon. The two men of the royal family were in opposite places compared to the usual arrangement, or so Keith guessed.

Most likely, Prince Lotor was getting some hands on learning for the day.

"Keith of Altea. Imprisoned for armed robbery of Imperial supplies. Second hand of the Voltron Pirates. Twenty-seven deca-phoebs of age. He has no property. He has no living family. He is ready to receive his sentence." The guard's voice was just as curt to the royal family as it had been to Keith just moments earlier, not that it was much of a surprise—the guards were always curt, no matter who they were talking to..

Emperor Zarkon waved his hand, dismissing the guard, before dropping it as Prince Lotor turned to glare at him. Keith barely was able to make out the Prince scolding his father for stepping in.

So, this was basically the Prince's trial run. It made sense. At twenty deca-phoebs, it was almost time for the Prince to prove his worth and ascend to the throne.

This put Keith on edge. Emperors and Kings all did things the same way, but the younger generation weren't nearly as predictable.

"I'd like you to state your case, Keith of Altea," Prince Lotor said, his accented voice ringing clear throughout the room.

Keith's hands were sweating, but he ignored them. Instead, he took a slow inhale before raising his eyes to meet Prince Lotor's directly. "You'll have to forgive me, your highness," Keith started, his voice raspy from lack of use. "I find it hard to articulate most of the things I wish to say, so my case might not be very… polished."

The Prince raised an eyebrow before waving his hand dismissively, almost exactly like his father had just a few ticks ago. "No matter. I'll give you time to present your past."

"My past?" Keith asked, almost intrigued. Normally he would be asked about his future, what he planned on doing with his freedom, not his past.

Prince Lotor's lips twitched into a smile. "Yes. Your past. I wish to know about the man I'm going to be sentencing. Motives are nearly as important as actions, are they not?"

Keith almost laughed, but held himself back. It would not do well for him to seem rude, and laughter could easily be perceived that way in a situation such as this.

In all of his life, he had only ever met one person who wanted to know his past, and that one person was the man who got him into pirating—the man who he considered family above all others—the leader of Voltron, the most fearsome group of pirates—the man who goes by Shiro.

To have a noble ask about his past? It was strange.

He must have been silent for too long, as Prince Lotor spoke again. "Maybe the two of us are not that different, only given different options in life."

At that, Keith finally lost his self control and let out a laugh.

…

"You look like I did when I was young," a man in a dark hood said, his frame blocking Keith's escape.

The young boy huffed in retaliation, not wanting to show his blatant fear. He had attempted to pick from the man's pocket, but had instead ended up with his wrist caught in a vice like grip. After being dragged into an alleyway, Keith had officially given up on the idea of escape.

He was only fourteen deca-phoebs, afterall, and scrawny as a bii-boh. Though the man couldn't be older than twenty deca-phoebs, he still was nothing but lithe muscle and quick instincts. Keith wasn't getting out of this without paying dearly.

"Look, kid," the man said, lowering his hood to reveal a nasty scar over the bridge of his nose. It looked relatively fresh; Keith wondered how it got there. "I'm not gonna hurt you or anything."

Keith rolled his eyes, though kept on the balls of his feet, ready to duck and run. He had gotten himself into a few scrapes before, and knew how to handle himself well enough. If he could just get past the man, he would probably be quick enough to outrun him.

The man seemed to guess his thoughts, and let out a soft sigh. "Try and find some honest form of living, kid. Once you get in the business of stealing… it's nearly impossible to get out."

Keith almost asked if the man knew from experience, but the older Altean simply sidestepped, giving Keith the chance to escape. Keith took it. He knew better than to give up the chance to run.

Once he was sure he was in the clear, he took a moment to calm down, leaning against a wall as he caught his breath.

To his surprise, he noticed a packet of food in his pocket that hadn't been there before—he had never really heard of someone using their skills to put something _into_ somebody's pocket as opposed to taking something away.

…

Keith knew better to steal from the same person twice, especially if he was caught the first time, but he hadn't recognized the man. Not at first, anyway. It had been nearly a deca-phoeb.

Though, Keith doubted that he would ever forget the one and only person who had ever caught him pick-pocketing and let him go without even attempting to land a blow.

"You lack focus," the man said as he dragged Keith into an alleyway, a look of exasperation over his features.

Keith, fifteen now and just a tiny bit more muscular, twisted out of the man's grip, attempting to make his escape. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, and he only struggled for a few ticks before realizing the futility of his situation.

The man was just stronger than him, and that was that.

Once Keith was set in place, his back against a wall and his escape completely blocked, the man sighed. "You seem smart, though. I'll give you that. Most people probably wouldn't have noticed your attempt at stealing. You just need a little more patience."

Keith raised an eyebrow. The man was giving him advice?

"And you're relatively small for your age, don't let that go to waste. Most people on this planet are relatively kind-hearted. Use that against them. Show them the poor, helpless boy who just needs a meal and a place to stay for the night. But do it with caution. Just because most people are kind, it doesn't mean all are. Find the ones that won't take advantage of you, and let them invite you into their home. Eat a good dinner. Get a decent night's rest. And payday comes in the morning just before dawn."

This was definitely strange for Keith, and he couldn't help but let a dumbstruck look cross his features, his jaw dropping a bit.

That was a mistake.

"And get better at only showing your targets what you want them to see!"

Keith's mouth snapped shut.

He then did the only thing that he could think of. He stuck his hand out for the older man to shake.

"Keith."

The man grinned almost immediately before taking Keith's hand. "Shiro."

…

Keith was really hoping the third time was the charm.

Shiro had accepted him into his home. Or, more accurately, his space shuttle.

It turned out that Shiro was nearly as homeless as Keith, but Keith didn't really mind. Shiro took him in, and that's all that mattered.

The third time Keith attempted to steal from Shiro, he went bigger than a simple money-pouch.

The third and final time Keith attempted to steal from Shiro, he stole the man's hoverbike that was attached to the side of his shuttle. He planned on selling it for scraps, which could feed him for a few movements at least, especially if he kept eating at the same pace he currently was.

They were still parked on Altea, despite Shiro's blatant desire to leave the planet, when Keith made his move. Before the sun rose, of course, only two quintants after being taken under Shiro's wing.

Keith was barely seated on the hoverbike, having just unclipped it from the side of the makeshift house, when Shiro tackled him to the ground, a laugh on his lips.

That's how Keith had gotten his first, large scar. Of course, he had received many smaller ones from smaller scuffles, but nothing came close to rivaling the large burn across his right cheek and down his neck that came from the bike's exhaust on his way down to the ground.

There was an odd glee, something almost like excitement, in Shiro's eyes as he pinned Keith to the smooth parking lot.

"That was much better," he said with a laugh before helping Keith up and taking him inside his shuttle to clean up the fresh wound on his face.

Keith resolved to never steal from Shiro again; the older man was just too good.

…

Keith hadn't meant to spill his entire life story to Prince Lotor—how his parents had died when he was only eleven deca-phoebs old, how the orphanage of Altea hadn't been kind to him and the streets even less so, how he found a home in Shiro, how they had banded the Voltron group of pirates because the old tales of Voltron seemed so much better than their current lives, how he had gotten each ugly scar, how everything felt empty, how they both wanted out but didn't know how to go about it.

He really hadn't meant to say all of it, but he did.

And Prince Lotor listened, his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers tapping ever so elegantly on armrest of his throne. Neither Queen Honerva nor Emperor Zarkon seemed inclined to step in.

So Keith talked, and talked, and talked. He probably spoke more in that one sitting than he had in the last phoeb altogether.

He talked until his mouth ran dry, and then talked some more. By the time he was done, he was thoroughly exhausted.

The Prince let out a soft sigh as Keith finished the retelling of his past, before straightening up in his seat. "I see," he said simply.

Keith blinked. He saw? What did he see?

"Please tell me what you were planning on saying to me, as I know that story was not it," Prince Lotor said after a minute, his eyes ever trained on Keith.

The Altean blinked rapidly for a moment before nodding. Things had already spiraled out of control so much, why not let them go a little farther? "I was going to promise to change my ways and beg to be allowed passage back to Altea so I could see my girl… maybe my wife… I may have added a child into the equation, depending on your reactions."

Prince Lotor let out the softest of laughs before nodding. "And this usually works?"

"Of course. I'm twenty-seven and have yet to actually pay more than a simple fee or a few nights of imprisonment for a crime."

The smile on Prince Lotor's lips grew just a little bit. "I see."

Keith honestly had no idea what to make of the Prince's questions, nor his motives, but the time spent in this throne room had been the most liberating, most life bringing, most filling time he had experienced in a while.

"And Shiro. He would also like a way out of the life you two have?"

Surprise filtered in through Keith; he had forgotten that he had talked about Shiro. He had been too wrapped up in the feeling of being honest. "Yes." His voice was oddly small.

He didn't mind though.

Once again, Prince Lotor's smile grew. "Perfect. I'd like to hire the two of you, then."

If Keith thought he knew surprise before, then he was sorely mistaken. Lotor's voice shot like electricity through him, and he wanted to yell out, to question the Prince, but he couldn't find the words to say.

"You would take up accommodations here in the palace and take up relatively odd jobs, most likely to dissolve underground crime on our planet, the planets of our allies, and possibly even throughout the entire system. You'll need for nothing, I can promise you that."

Keith was still too shocked to respond. His entire body was trying to comprehend what the Prince was saying. No one had offered him a job before. This was a second chance to fix his empty life. This was his shot.

He had to run.

But this time, he had to run towards something and not away.

He had to accept that he was truly going to change—that he was truly going to find some semblance of balance in his life.

The Prince wasn't finished, though. "Of course, you can decline and I'll let you walk out of here a free man. But, whether you take the job or not, if I catch you stealing from my empire again, there will be consequences. I'm giving you a chance. Be smart with it."

Keith nodded, almost dumbly, before nodding again with vigor.

This was it. This was his shot at a better life, and he just knew Shiro would go for it as well—they had been wanting this so much, and here it was, handed to them on a silver platter.

And, he suspected that the probability of another opportunity opening up like this was small, if not zero.


End file.
